FatScribe Slight No. 3

About FatScribe.com

FatScribe.com is about getting one's chops in order; putting something on the page and some skin in the game. Writers write, even if unpaid. If you have something to say, and don't, intellectual obesity sets in. "Fat is a state of mind." --- All rights reserved. Content may not be published, rewritten, or redistributed without written permission.

24 August 2012

My bank account was emptied a few days ago ... unbeknownst to me. Ugh. That one stung. I called the bank and turns out it was official. There was a court order. A bad (non)decision by yours truly caught up with me. Then on a separate, unrelated matter the next day, I received a notice from the IR(flipping!)S regarding the extension I filed last year. They're not happy with me either. Double ugh. Don't mess with the tax man, man.

and the world falls in on us ... if we let it.

I'm okay with it all, though; I'm a fairly nonplussed fellow. I've emptied my pockets three times in my life rolling the dice, betting on business success (two of which still have good chances of success -- come on 7! Daddy needs a new pair of John Lobbs!). And, I've had three major setbacks in my life from poor personal choices. I am now owning up to them all -- swallowing the bitter pill of procrastination's reward. Well, there's still one more to deal with, but it's on my list of things to address before year's end. As they say, what doesn't kill us, blah-blah-blah. Just makin' lemonade, baby.

After leaving my local bank branch today (where all of my pennies are now stored), I drove across the parking lot to buy a vanilla latte at The Coffee Bean, as is my wont . As I looked for a spot to park, I spied momentarily an elderly woman who looked like my mom walking happily, carrying a plastic grocery bag half-filled with Ensure. I watched as this poor soul tripped over something, perhaps a curb. She fell hard to her left knee, bag spilling open. She stretched out two hands attempting to catch her fall. Not quick enough; she struck the asphalt face-first, collapsing in a rather busy part of the parking lot.

andthe world falls in on us ... bit by bit.

I parked immediately in the fire zone and ran over to her. Oh, it was too sad for words, Dear Reader. The shocked look on her face. The pain from the laceration on her forehead, dental injury and split lip. I did the things you're supposed to do. I asked her name. (Irene.) I asked Irene to remain still. I asked her age. (70.) Did she have any history of illness that we should know about? (Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and hypertension.) I folded my jacket and placed it under her head and placed my large bald head between her and the sun, attempting to keep her comfortable in FatScribe shade (it was nearly 100 degrees). I kept her head still with my hands as we waited for paramedics to arrive.

Thankfully, within 5 minutes or so an off-duty fireman stopped to lead the charge. Several others also helped. One cat, the newly appointed "parking lot traffic cop" in his just-finished-golfing-attire at first walked up and said as loudly as his drunken luncheon breath could permit while looking down at me: "What happened? Did anyone see what happened?!" My first impulse was to tell WC Fields here to take it down a notch and to please take himself and his red bulbous nose back to his watering hole. Instead, I said nothing, and he got the hint and walked back trying to help, directing Bentley's and Porsches around us.

Some others brought water and cloth napkins to help us clean her up a bit to make sure there weren't other injuries under all of the blood. She began to get very week and could hardly speak. I was afraid she was going to have a heart attack as her breathing became labored. I found myself saying the same sorts of things I told my mother the days before she passed. "You're doing great, (Irene)." "We're here for you." "Try to relax your breathing as best you can." "The (paramedics) will be here in just a second." "Where else does it hurt?"

When my mom passed after a difficult week in the ICU, our world fell in on my brothers and me as one would expect, but just for a bit. We miss her everyday, but because she loved the hell out of us, we all still feel her in our lives and the lives of our children. The words I attempted to console Irene with this morning echoed in memories bank, pangs of sadness for my mom as I looked after Irene.

The paramedics finally arrived. One senior firefighter (55 or so) took my place. I held an IV bag and continued to provide shade, now with a steak and seafood menu provided by my friend's restaurant. Neck brace and inflatable leg splint were applied. Irene transferred onto the backboard. I overheard that her vitals were 108 over 80 (I believe). A paramedic took the IV and they placed her on the gurney, moving her into the awaiting ambulance. The Good Samaritan's Armani jacket that was Irene's pillow, now spattered with blood and battered by asphalt detritus was tossed summarily into the back his MKX. After 15 years in the rotation, it needed to be retired anyway.

Back taxes and trips over curbs. The world falls in on us ... because, well, it's an imperfect world where we all live and suffer at the hands of fools and sometimes ourselves (and sometimes the two are the same). But we live in a world where there is grace. We trip and fall and others help us. We make mistakes and say the wrong thing at the wrong time and sometimes we offend ... and we apologize to those whose world we helped fall in a little. Bit by bit, chipped tooth by split lip. Emptied bank account by court decision. Our world is not perfect ... but it's still pretty darn close.

Don't hold it all in, Dear Reader, the offenses and the set-backs. Let them go. Don't feel too guilty after you've done your best to ameliorate the (very few, i'm sure) times where you've screwed up. Forgive others, but absolutely don't forget to forgive yourself.

and the world falls in on us ... and we fight on, because, what other choice do we have?

20 August 2012

I'm sure you know the feeling, Dear Reader. You and I have had the fleeting thought of just chucking it all in; you know, mashing that button (as they say in the South), the one that deletes our blog. It's sort of like when you're standing on the edge of a building and looking over the side and we think to ourselves, "What must that be like?"

Well, I for one decided that I didn't want to find out what that would be like, viz., to eliminate the ole porkster. (I posted about this inclination some two years ago -- i know, such an atavistic impulse!)

And, I have been so delighted to see that so many of my (our) blogging friends are still thriving and posting great stories! That you all have the same (or much-improved) websites with the same great voice and content. So, nice to keep my finger on the pulse of the blogosphere vicariously through your amazing websites. And, it meant so much to have friends check-in via Facebook and email (like Deb -- wonderful Deb on another continent! -- Susan, Emm Doc, Betty, Char, Barbara, Preppy, Madeleine (my coffee clutch chum on Abbott Kinney!) Carol, Karena, Kathy, Julia, Shelley, Lou, Sandy, Ms. Divine, Julie, and Caleb -- and others who shall remain nameless but nonetheless appreciated).

Anyhoo ... after a long vacation (not!) of starting another Internet company (or two) and winding down one business that didn't quite pan-out, and finally starting a consulting group with three amazingly talented much-smarter-than-yours-truly individuals, I'm back. Well at least for an occasional polemical word here at FatScribe. And, I think (99% sure) I'll follow-up on/complete my creative writing website called:

I'll be transferring the fictional stories over to InkandMoss.com to best assist me as I seek publication of some of these stories more formally. I am really looking forward to (and am energized) by the thought of writing creatively over at Ink&Moss and then commentating on FatScribe or just posting to re-tell my lame personal stories -- even if just for my kids' sake. Seems like I'm always allowing nostalgia to creep in here, for which I am loads sorry for the sappy and saccharine nature of some of these posts, Dear Reader.Anyhoo(that's two anyhoo's in one post -- must be the rust!), glad to be back ... in the pink and in the ink (and Moss)!

FatScribe Pull No. 1

"Nature and tyrants abhor a vacuum. And, when this wide-body kleptocracy of Mubarak exits the Sinai Peninsula, I predict we will have radicals entering the vacated public square ready to bring new direction and dictates to the masses that don't have the rights of man on their agendas. I'm afraid that radicalism will replace corruption, and then the West will have both to contend with." -- FatScribe

FatScribe by Email? Sure, why not?

FatScribe Slight No. 6

Brankton had visions of a rotund Orson Welles with white chef hat in the back somewhere saying that he'd "flip no flapjack before it's time." He also had a vision of smacking the sass off that fat man's face. -- FatScribe